I sit inside my tank and feel at ease.
I spiral through my owner’s silken hands.
I strangle birds I find inside my dreams.
I swallow mice I come upon in sand
already dead. There is no fun or fat
that I can tangle with at night. Sometimes
I’m shown to guests by her and marveled at.
‘Til now I’ve shed a thousand summers by.
An endless small sun hangs above and keeps
my blood from pause. I know that human hand
is not a threat. These crickets never leap
or shove. I wish her mouth grew fangs to dread.
I daydream of her striking me one night.
Before I learned of love I knew of fight.